Hole-and-Corner
by LawAndBensler
Summary: Hole-and-corner: Being in a secret place; carried on in a place away from public view. Bombshell (S12) with an added bonus – what we really wanted to happen.
1. Hide and Seek

Bombshell (S12) with an added bonus – what we really wanted to happen.

Disclaimer: I don't own shit. Literally Dick Wolf owns their shit.

Hole-and-corner: Being in a secret place; carried on in a place away from public view

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><p><em>Chapter 1<em>

"How do you want to play it?"

"Tell them our good friend Jerry invited us."

Olivia nodded back at Elliot, her face showing total agreement with his plan, but her heart beating at little faster at the idea of it. Fin had just said "The Swing Set" was open to singles as well as couples. So why was it that Elliot had suggested they go together? Even worse, why was he now suggesting that they play it as a married couple, using their real names?

"We need to work out the details of our marriage," Elliot continued as they made their way back to their joined desks. _Our marriage_? Olivia couldn't help but pick up on his slip. She rested her elbows on the desk and leaned toward him.

"Ok, we have been married for what 5 years?"

"C'mon, Liv, no one would end up at a swinger's club after only 5 years…12. Keep it as close to the real thing as possible." Olivia scoffed at him. If he wanted to keep the details real, she would play along. "Then we fight like an old married couple."

He narrowed his eyes at her as she leaned back in her chair, linking her fingers behind her head, a small grin of satisfaction on her lips.

He picked up his jacket from the back of the chair and as he stomped out of the precinct, he mumbled back, "I'll pick you up at 9."

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><p>She was late.<p>

He knocked on her door for a third time, and then glanced at his watch. 9:15pm. She was late. What could possibly be taking her so long? He was starting to wonder if something was wrong, as he pulled out his emergency key from his suit pocket and inserted it in her lock, turning. Olivia was never late.

Olivia wrapped the curling iron around a strand of hair for the third time that night. She stared back at her reflection in her bathroom mirror, running her finger through her curls. She didn't dress up. She didn't put on this much make-up and curl her hair. It just wasn't her. She was growing frustrated trying to look the part of 'sexually promiscuous wife of 12 years' but feeling like 'sexually frustrated cop with a dry spell of years' instead. She sighed as she dropped the curling iron onto her bathroom counter. _At least my underwear look good even if know one will see them _she thought as she padded her way into her bedroom in her black lace strapless bra and matching thong.

Elliot opened the door to a dark living room. "Liv, you here? We said 9 o'clock and it is already 9:15. I don't want to miss the regular crowd" he called out as he headed further into her apartment. He turned to his right just as Olivia passed by her open bedroom door.

"Fuck Elliot!" she screamed as she hastily tried to cover her exposed body with her hands. "Don't you knock?!"

Elliot's right hand shot up to cover his eyes as he turned away.

"Liv, look I'm sorry. I thought something was wrong because you were running late and…I…" The dark red blush spread across his neck, his ears were on fire as he tried to stumble away, knocking his knee into the corner of the end table by the couch. "Shit!" Now he was embarrassed and injured.

"Elliot. Get. Out." She was fuming. He bolted outside the front door, determined not to enter again, but wait until she made her way out. He scrubbed his hands over his face. Yes, she was mad; he knew she wouldn't speak to him the entire trip to the club. But shit, the seconds before his hand covered his eyes, he'd seen her. And God, she was gorgeous. The black lace bra dipped low between her breasts, her nipples barely covered by the material. He had seen her change in the locker room before, but it wasn't like this. Had he never noticed the dips in her stomach? How her legs never seemed to end? How her hips curved? And her ass…He rubbed his eyes hard. The image would be burned into his brain.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and tried to slow down his breathing. "Calm down" he mumbled both to himself and his body. He's ashamed he reacted that way. His body's natural reaction to seeing her like that was immediate and that was in part the reason he turned away so quickly. She would probably punch him if she had seen him physically react to her.

This was going to be a long night.

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><p>Olivia was still furious when she zipped up the back of the leopard dress and coated her lips once more with a pink, shiny lip gloss. <em>Good enough<em> she thought, sighing. She slipped into her black heels and made her way outside her apartment to an awaiting Elliot. She really did not want to deal with his mood tonight. He was the one who walked in on her and yet somehow he would be brooding like it was her fault. She slammed her front door shut behind her and turned to face Elliot.

Elliot took a small step back from her and eyes widened as they drew up her body, drinking her in. "You looked incredible," he blurted. By the time his gaze reached her face, she was visibly blushing. She wasn't used to attention like this from him, the sudden shift in his behavior. He wasn't mad at all, he was, well she didn't even know what this look was…in 12 years of a partnership, she had never seen it before. He looked lost and almost doe eyed, and…aroused? She shook her head at the absurdity.

"Let's go Elliot, you said we will be late." She stomped her heels right past him almost irritated at the whole situation. How dare he barge into her apartment like that, then act like some teenager on his first date? As he stood frozen in her doorway, she threw her head back to give him one more "eat shit and die" death glare continuing her walk downstairs without him.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, dropped his head and followed.


	2. Seek to Find

Brace yourself, chapter 2 is here! And chapter 3 is already halfway done, so don't fret, more is on the way soon.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Dick Wolf and NBC does. And they should have let them bang.

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><p>"Welcome to The Swingset, I'm Suzette"<p>

"Hi Suzette. This is my wife Olivia, I'm Elliot." Olivia leaned into Elliot, hoping to give the impression of loving wife. But was she did, her breast pressed into his right side. Elliot's face visibly hardened and his jaw clenched as he tried to focus on what Suzette was saying. He could feel her so close next to her. The dress was thin, he already knew what her bra looked like. Now with her dressed against him, he could almost feel the full weight of her breast on his bicep. Olivia mumbled something about "husband" and "Jerry" and he kept staring at Suzette like he was following the conversation. He gripped Olivia's left hand a little harder for emphasis. He wanted to be gripping that breast instead. Would it fill up his hand? Spill over? Would her nipples pebble under his palm? He was hardening just at the thought, struggling to maintain focus.

"First time experiencing the lifestyle?" Suzette questioned. The nervous giggle Olivia let out wasn't acting; this lifestyle, being in this club, what they might see, or have to do; it scared the shit out of her. Elliot glanced in her direction, giving her a tight smile of reassurance. "Is it that obvious?"

"You two are going to have a lot of fun, c'mon." Suzette laughed as she walked over to the bar. Olivia stole a quick glance at the club and Elliot stole a quick glance at her. How she suddenly looked so calm was beyond him. Because at Suzette's words his stomach dropped 3 floors. Fun? He was concerned at what that meant. To say the least. 

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><p>"Elliot and I have been into each other for so long, we decided to, umm, spread our wings a little." Wow, now that's was a truth Olivia never admitted out loud. She had been into Elliot for some time. But in a way that he would never know. In a way that kept her up at night until her orgasm subsided and she scolded herself for coming to thoughts of him. Again.<p>

A blue martini was placed in front of her by her new "friends." They weren't suppose to drink on the job, even undercover, but she was having a difficult time relaxing enough to ask the right questions. She chatted casually with her new friends about Cassandra, Jerry and Doug, trying to gather pertinent info for their case. She finally relaxed around them, sipping her martini, the time passing quickly. The feeling quickly dissipated she realized Elliot was still in the playroom with Cassandra.

"Is my husband safe with Cassandra?" Olivia questioned aloud. But secretly, she was getting worried. How far was Elliot willing to take this with Cassandra to try to keep his cover? Better yet, why did she care?

Finally she saw Elliot making his way out of the curtain from the playroom. He looked relaxed, but not too relaxed. A quick nod from him confirmed that nothing happened with Cassandra. That was all Olivia needed to crack a smile in his direction. Their silent language carried a full conversation behind it, unbeknownst to those around them. El made his way over to her, Cassandra hot on his heels, but he never lost eye contact with Olivia.

"Miss me?" He whispered toward Olivia as his hand came to rest on her lower back, right above her ass. The touch instantly burned. It seared into the flesh beneath his hand and it smoldered low into her belly. He leaned in close to her, his lips grazing the skin below her ear. The touch was so light, she almost missed it, but she could feel his warm breath on her neck. Goosebumps instantly erupted along her arms and back and she fought not to shiver against him. He's never touched her neck before. And never with his lips.

"You two are cute together." Cassandra smiled, taking her place next to Olivia and their friends at the cocktail table. "But why don't we take this over to the couches where we can all get to know each other a bit more?" She drew a finger slowly down Olivia's arm and winked. 

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><p>Elliot silently strung his fingers through Olivia's as he led her over to the crushed velvet couches. Olivia could feel the perspiration gathering between then, the nervousness of the situation. They were deep in the belly of the beast now, they were gaining the trust of the club patrons. Trust that could possibly, maybe, lead to valuable information on the case.<p>

Olivia sat to Elliot's right, their thighs barely touching. She continued to sip her martini, making sure to keep her hands occupied by holding the glass. The situation was fine at first, but giggles and jokes only last so long in a sex club. Several couples, and non-couples around them had begun to kiss, hands down dresses and up skirts. Every time things got heavier between a couple, Elliot shifted his gaze awkwardly downward, avoiding eye contact with anyone fooling around. This time as his head snapped down, his eyes landed on Olivia's long, tanned legs and he couldn't help drawing his vision upward. His eyes reached the hem of her dress, now resting higher on her thigh, and he drew his lip in, biting it and stifling a cough. Olivia absentmindedly sipped her drink, avoiding the club guests, and now Elliot, beside her. When the first "ohh right there" moaned from a couple on their left, Elliot visible stiffened. The second time, his fist clenches so tight, his knuckles turned white. The third, his jaw clenched and he stifled a frustrated moan with a cough.

At the lack of movement between the 'couple', the shift to general awkwardness, caused one of the club regulars to begin eyeing them suspiciously. "You know the first step to help you get comfortable with others here is to spice things up between you two," she quipped, a light-hearted tone in her voice.

It was true, for a married couple, Elliot and Olivia had barely had any contact, apart from a small peck on her neck. She had flinched at anyone who flirted with her and Elliot continued to scowl at every move made toward Olivia.

At those words, Elliot immediately brought his right hand up to Olivia's hair, brushing the loose strands to twist it around her ear. "We understand, don't we, honey?" His words dripped sweetness but Olivia caught the look in his eyes as quiet desperation to play along.

"What do you guys suggest? Cassandra?" Olivia looked over at the brunette, while bringing her left hand to Elliot's thigh running along the material of his suit. This was uncharted territory, unfamiliar contact. His muscles rippled beneath her fingertips and she was starting to tremble as her hand rode higher toward his crotch. He flinched under her touch and the hand that he had thrown over her shoulder now gripped her hard.

"Well a kiss wouldn't hurt," Cassandra smirked at them, obviously excited to see the two in action. Olivia's hand immediately stilled on Elliot's leg.

"That's all?" Olivia laughed at Cassandra with fake confidence. Who was she kidding? They couldn't do this. 12 years. 12 years of a partnership, of the dream team. Were they going to throw it all away now? She thinks about the contact they've made previously…one hug. One hug was a far as 'Elliot and Olivia' had ever existed. Before Olivia could think anymore, Elliot had moved his hand to under her chin, tilting her face up at him. Before she could protest, he planted a small kiss on her lips.

The kiss was quick, so quick in fact, it could barely count as a kiss, it was a peck really. Something that existed between friends. But God, their lips made contact and there was electricity there, Olivia felt it, Elliot couldn't deny it. It was small, but his lips were perfectly rough against hers and she wanted more. She wanted his tongue to slip in between her lips, his hand to wind into her hand, his body to press against hers. And she wanted to see if that spark she thought she just felt was real.

"C'mon, help us out, you two. We _love_ to watch the action," purred a woman's voice to Olivia's right. Olivia was still frozen, still staring at Elliot's lips. They were slightly parted, his breath coming in short pants. She was still close enough to feel the warm air on her face. Her heart began to race, her palms sweat and his hand was still on her chin. He drew his eyes up her face until they came to rest on hers, prodding, questioning their next move.

They'd drawn lines in the sand. Created boundaries. A partnership that strived on mutual respect and trust. But with that first kiss the glass was beginning to crack. The walls crumbled around them. Screw lines and rules and boundaries.

She stared into his blue pools in silent acknowledgement before his lips came crashing into hers, hard. 

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><p>Jesus Fucking Christ.<p>

Olivia Benson's lips. Olivia Benson's lips were on his mouth. And God they were soft as silk and everything he had imagined and more. He stroked his lips once along hers but she hesitated beneath him. He could tell she was still in shock, a statue against his mouth. He tried again, drawing his mouth softly across hers before sucking on her bottom lip. _C'mon Liv, gimme something here._ Elliot threaded his hand slowly up the back of her neck, twisting and tangling it in the hair at her nape. As his tongue shot out to lightly trace her lips, he finally, finally felt her relax beneath him. And then something happened; whatever wall she had built up, whatever hard exterior she was hiding beneath softened and her lips were moving against his.

She was pressing into him, breathing him in as she sucked on his bottom lip. Her tongue licked his lips, dipped into his mouth, ran along his teeth. He tasted like whiskey and something else, something uniquely Elliot. Olivia whimpered when he bit down on her bottom lip. Her hands roamed over every muscle, his shoulders, his chest, everything she had longed to touch for years. He was chiseled and his muscles were hard under her hands. It made her wonder if he was hard elsewhere. It made her want to find out.

When the kiss picked up intensity, they felt it, the room felt it. He was devouring her, sucking the very life out of her with his kiss and she welcomed the intrusion. His hands were in her hair, hers clenching the collar of his suit like there was no tomorrow.

He wanted her. Under her leopard dress he could picture her body, all lush and golden curves. He wanted to touch her, lick every inch of her, his fingers inside of her, taste her when she came. He wanted her writhing beneath him, screaming his name and he didn't want her leave his bed until she couldn't walk. Suddenly everything he tried to suppress for 12 years came to the surface and he was hard as fuck against his trousers.

His hand moved down her collarbone, creeping toward the swell of her breast. As his rough finger pads hit the top of her dress he swore he heard her moan into his mouth. So he did it again, dipping his hand into her dress to barely brush the nipple. This time there was no mistaking it. She moaned hard into his mouth as her tongue lapped at his. Suddenly she was moving beneath him. He refused to pull his mouth from hers, instead gripping her sides as she swung her legs over the straddle him.

She was straddling him. Olivia Benson was crotch to crotch with him, in a bar, with her tongue down his throat. His hands flew to her hips, grinding her down on him. He knew she could feel him. He was hard as a rock and her dress was beginning to pool at her hips. She knew, she fucking knew now how much he wanted her.

His right hand crept down her side, feeling her shutter and writhe under his touch, across her flat stomach, down to her thigh. He couldn't resist as his thumb drew small circles along the edge of her dress. The action was enough to drive her hands around his neck, pulling his closer, pushing him further into her mouth. She toyed with the short hair at the base of his head and rocked above him. When she collided with his erection and he could have exploded right there. Oh God, if she could move her hips like this now, in public, he couldn't even imagine what she was capable of when she was inhibited and in his bed…

It spurred him on, he couldn't resist her. His hands crept up, further along the smooth skin. His tongue dipped again into her mouth just as his fingers brushed the lacy material of her thong. He could almost, almost feel the heat of her. But as soon as he started to slip one finger under the lace, she stilled. She froze. Her hands, her lips stopped moving. Her tongue withdrew from his mouth.

Her eyes grew wide.

And Olivia Benson did what Olivia does best. She ran.

TBC


	3. Finders Keepers

Now for the real reason this is rated M. Well part of the reason. Chapter 4 should give you even more of a reason to blush.

Disclaimer: I still don't own them. Dick Wolf does. And NBC. Warren Leight might have a share in there too.

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><p><em>Breathe. Just breathe.<em>

She couldn't breathe. And she couldn't stop to think because every time she did, she swore she could feel Elliot's lips on hers, his fingers moving up her leg, making contact with her thong, starting to slip underneath. His fingers were so close to right where she wanted them. Right where she ached for him.

The club music was too loud. Her ears were pounding, her head was swimming. And she cursed the fact that she could feel the effects of the little bit of alcohol she consumed. And she was going to pass out.

She continued to run until she rounded a corner of the bar to assure Elliot could no longer see her. She stumbled and pushed her way past the other club patrons until she found a dark, empty hallway and sunk her back into the carpeted wall. Forcing long, deep breaths with her hands cradling her face; she felt them trembling over her cheeks. It was a stupid, dumb, idiotic, and did she mention stupid, decision to come here. They hadn't really accomplished anything they couldn't have teased out of a witness in an interview. And now what? Go back to the precinct and pretend nothing happened? Pretend his fingers hadn't been millimeters from her core, where it would have given away just how much she wanted him?

Out of nowhere a hand came to rest on her shoulder and she jumped against the sudden intrusion.

"Elliot, leave me the fuck alone," she growled without looking up. It was him, she didn't need to see him to confirm, she could feel his presence next to her. It had always been like that. She could sense him from across the room. When he moved, she moved, even subconsciously, like magnets constantly attracting and repelling each other.

He was so close to her, too close. He practically cast a shadow over her. His cologne invaded her nostrils; it made her dizzy with the thought of him. She was resisting. She was damn good at resisting him. Resisting the thoughts of him naked. Against her. Inside of her. She'd done it for 12 years. What was one more night? Give it a few more hours and she would be home. In her bed, in her shower. Anywhere alone where her affectionately named pink vibrator could erase any memory of his hands skimming the edges of her underwear.

"Liv?" His voice slight shaky. "Olivia, look at me." His thumb and forefinger nudged at her chin, trying to draw her eyes up. She refused. If she knew anything of Elliot Stabler, she knew his eyes would give away his regret. His apology for taking this too far would shine straight through those deep blue pools. The problem was, her eyes didn't say the same. If she glanced up at him, he would see the want, the need; the arousal she was still trying to push down.

But when she forced her eyes up, that wasn't what she saw at all. His look was dark, feral, pure sin. It made her stomach contract, her toes curl and dammit, but that look made her instantly wet for him again.

"El…" It was meant to be a warning, a protest. But her voice strained, gave her away when his name came like a whimper on her lips.

"Oh Liv," His voice was thick with his own arousal. In one move, he slid closer to her, trapping her between his body and the wall. His legs moved to either side of her hips. Her breasts were smashed against his chest and he swore even now he could feel her peaked nipples cutting through the material.

He leaned in close, slowly, aligning his lips with hers, but not touching her, not yet. This time, he wasn't rushing this kiss. He needed to feel her lips, commit them to memory because if he didn't have more than tonight, he needed to remember this moment...Remember the way her tongue unexpectedly darts out to meet his lips. Remember how she angled her head as he takes in her bottom lip or how she sighed softly into his mouth when his hand weaves into her hair.

His lips dragged down to her neck and he sucked hard, knowing the skin will redden and purple under his touch. HANDS

"Tell you haven't thought about it. Tell me to stop," He challenged. His fingers eagerly squeezed her nipple.

"I want you, Elliot," she purred against his lips. The words feverishly swallowed by another kiss.

"How? I need you to tell me." He stressed. He needed to know this was real. This wasn't an act, their covers talking. He needed to know this was Elliot and Olivia, devoted, yet slightly co-dependent partners.

"Here. Now. I, I need you inside of me."

"Jesus, Olivia, you don't know what you do to me. Every fucking day, Olivia. I've wanted you everyday since I met you."

And her restraint was gone.

She arched into him, her hips slammed into his hard cock. She was biting at his lips, then soothing with her tongue. Clawing at his jacket, his back, desperate fingernails digging into flesh, leaving red half moon scars in their wake.

She was wild, untamed. An Olivia he'd never seen before but in his fantasies. Beneath her badge and leather jackets and chasing perps down dirty New York streets, she was this gorgeous, primal sex kitten. How did he survive 12 years of a partnership not knowing what her lips felt like sliding along the stubble of his jaw? Or when she sucked the skin beneath his ear and made him pulse with need?

"Dammit Olivia," his grating voice in her ear driving her forward even more.

He couldn't come yet. He wasn't a pre-pubescent boy in the back on a movie theater, but God she made him feel like one. Grinding against him, she was fiercely trying to get some release before he could touch her. But one more thrust against him and he was going to explode.

He had to take back control. "Liv, you have to stop moving." Rough fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips, urging her to still against him.

His lips trailed down her neck. God, her skin was soft. And he could smell that same coconut scent that floated by him every morning as she made her way past him to her desk. He couldn't help breathing her in. Jesus, now he was throbbing even more against her, hard against her abdomen.

His hands were wound around her hair, tugging gently, tilting her head back to give him uninhibited access to her shoulders. He exhaled against her pulse point and the warm air sent another surge of wetness between her legs.

"Ohhh. Ohhh God." She was whimpering now. Badass Benson was actually whimpering and it was all because of him; for him. Because now his tongue was running along her collarbone and moving down to the edge of her dress.

Those breasts that had taunted him, had peaked out from v-neck tshirts, and stared at him when she leaned over a desk, were now his for the taking. He lowered her dress just enough to free her nipple. His mouth is there then, hot and wet against her. She practically whined beneath him as the sensation shot straight to her belly and lower, lower until she was squeezing her thighs to increase the pressure, the sensation. His left handed kneaded her breast, while his mouth worked on the other one, circling, sucking, hardening under his touch while she moaned above him. Without warning he gently bit down.

"You SonOfaBitch," she cursed. He smiled against her tanned skin.

"You liked it." Another graze of his teeth, another jolt to her groin.

"Fuck you." But her words held no real malice behind them.

His hands found their way to her thighs, fervently caressing the skin there until he made his way up to that tiny scrap of lace that had taunted him all night. He cupped her then and he tried to hide his surprise at how she had soaked through the material in anticipation.

When he finally pushed the perfect lace to the side, she was bare and soaking wet against his fingers. He parted her folds with his fingers, rubbing softly back and forth, purposely avoiding contact with her clit. She thrashed against him, lifting her hips in attempts to get his fingers inside of her.

"Just do it. Please El. Just fuck me. Please." How did she get to the point of begging? She was so turned on; it was almost embarrassing the way she was dripping for him. She arched her back again, a deep sigh escaping as the motion drove the tip of his fingers inside of her. She needed more of him. The pressure was overwhelming, her legs were shaking, her dress piled high on her thighs, her skin burned with every touch. It was unbearably hot in this hallway and his fingers were lighting fire with every inch of skin they ran over. He was branding her. She would be his from this moment on.

"Pleaseeee" she couldn't bear it anymore. It had reached the point of physical pain, over sensitized to his touch. Her eyes squeezed shut.

He swiped his thumb over her clit and she fought the urge to jump, a fucking jolt of electricity shot through her and she was on the edge. With one hand, he yanked both her wrists above her head, his body still pinning her to the wall. She raised one leg around his hip, opening herself more to him. And with one, two strokes, his fingers were inside of her. He filled her, stretched her in that delicious way that immediately pushed her closer to the edge. The burn climbed up her belly and she soaked his fingers. He wasn't letting up; he wasn't pausing as he continued to fuck her like this. His fingers were so deep, and so good and the thought flashed in her mind of how he knew exactly how to curl and twist his fingers inside of her. That it felt like he knew her body so well as he hit another spot that sent another surge of pleasure through her.

He grunted as he put pressure right on her clit with his thumb and she clamped around him. She was tumbling into bliss and the intensity of her orgasm was overwhelming. The fire tore through her and she threw her head back on the wall, squeezed her eyes shut. Her knees were growing weaker and she slumped against the wall as she spasmed around his fingers.

"I got you Liv, I got you." His words were distant but she could feel his arms there, holding her up as the orgasm overtook her.

She tried to calm down as the blissful sensations drifted, but her breathing remained rapid. And it was still too hot in this club and she was starting to overthink again because Jesus Christ that orgasm was beyond anything she had experienced before and he wasn't even inside of her yet.

He curled his fingers into the lace thong at her hip, gave a sharp tug and ripped the lace off her in one swift motion. He threw the useless material to the floor.

"Look at me" he demanded of her. Her head lolled to the side against the wall and her lids were heavy as she opened her eyes just in time to see him bring his two fingers, the fingers that were just inside of her, to his lips. Before tonight she didn't think it was possible to be immediately turned on following a mind-blowing orgasm. But as she watched his fingers disappear into his mouth, tasting her, she realized how wrong she was.

"You want a taste?" Before she could respond, his fingers were running along her folds again, the remnants of her juices still present and the beginnings of another surge wetness taking hold. When he slid the tip of his finger into her again, her breathing caught. He brought it up to her mouth and she opened slowly to allow him in. Her tongue ran along the underside of his finger, sucking the flavor of herself off. "Uhh, shit Liv, so good" he muttered, his finger sliding out of her mouth with a slight pop.

He stared at her with burning intensity, her leg still wrapped around his torso, the dress piled up on her hips, her core up against him. A small, satisfied smile played across her lips.

"Take me home, El." She purred and he obliged.

**TBC.**


End file.
